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There are a few moments I will never forget.

The day my brother was born.

The day we rode in a buggy behind a bike to the beach.

The last day of senior year.

The day I started college.

The day I got a call to Luther.

The day I drove to Omega.

The emotions ran high. Fear. Shock. Grief. Completely overwhelmed.

I have never been so filled with grief. The grief of a summer spent out of WI and the loss of a 2014 Luther staff that I wasn't invited to. I cried. I paused and stared in wonder at the place that would destroy me from the inside out. I looked up at the hill and thought the next three months of my life were completely over. Little did I know that the only thing it would be destroying, was the completely wrong beliefs I had.

This was a place that encouraged belonging. It flourished with tears. Tears of joy, sorrow and understanding. For one summer, our home was found in the frayed edges of handed down couches pushed in a circle. It was discovered in a mud filled field infested with screaming children. It was seen in the flames of a BZ campfire as our sunglasses reflected the watercolors of a sunset painted just for us. The sense of home surrounded us in the never leaving bug spray and sunscreen smell. But most importantly home could be found in the faces of all those who walked our paths and shared His word, who listened to our sadness and gave us immeasurable joy.  Wherever these people go, they carry with them parts of the home we shared.

The people I met and the place I was able to call home for one summer can never be replicated. As we travel and grow, I feel a sense of distance. My home wasn't just left behind, but was dispersed. As people left, small parts of my home went with them.

My home travels far and wide. Parts of it can be found in the heart of a woman who bleeds pride for Texas. Some belongs to a boy who loves spoons, cats and eating freezies in numerous forms and another who can leave me with the best advice and a smile. Still more was given to a girl who's smile is the most genuine I know. Parts of home left every Friday, and as quickly as the tears dried, new pieces of the puzzle called home arrived on Sundays.

This summer gave a new meaning to the simple word home. Home is not just a place, and it's not just things. My home is spewed further than the eye could ever see, placed in beating hearts of able bodies. All together, on fire for Him.

Learned

You can teach someone,
You can't change someone.

One does that for one's self.

Unknowingly Blessed

I first noticed her as the girl with angelic hair.

The way it curled, glowed, and framed her face.

Beauty.

She looked at me with a gaze full of peace,

Silently contemplating a verbal exchange.

And then it came…

"Hi."

One small word.

Mind contemplating neurons firing, lips moving, air vibrating, ears retrieving, message delivering, understood.

Hi.

That word changed it all.

Hours of sleep were lost, as precious hours of friendship were gained.

The night was filled with stories shared and laughter that bound us.

The ability to stay in her presence and float on her words,

As our stranger status almost immediately turned into friends.

With the following years behind us,

We were given the rare opportunity to be much more.

With deep anticipation and short calls we looked forward to summer.

Months turned to weeks, weeks into days, and then there we were.

Over the bridge, into the lot, I saw her come.

And again,

'Hi."

This simple word came to mean more than ever spoken between us before.

The simple act of hi would never again mean the same.

We were bound together in His great love,

Sharing unbelievable highs and indescribable lows.

We had the rare ability to be completely free for a summer.

No ties.

Free to dance, laugh, sing, stargaze, feel the sun and fully acknowledge its presence.

We were free to cry without judgment.

Completely. Free.

We were two hearts made of a similar mold, brought together for a summer.

There could have never been enough days for me to completely understand the gift He gave me by sending her to camp.

Her presence fills me with joy, her laughter is music to my ears. She makes me completely comforted and content while filling my life with sincere humor.

I could have never done it without her.

While she was there for campers and Him,

Her biggest impact was the one she left with me.

She branded me with friendship and scarred me with love. 

The absence of

Explaining the pure joy of camp and the utter hollowness of leaving is nearly impossible; but I tried.

Camp

Joy. Love. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Happiness. Tears. Peace. Completely Content.

Almost every emotion was felt in such a degree I have never had the ability to feel anywhere else on earth. So close to heaven. If you were to lay your head among the grass and push your ear hard enough, I still believe that you can hear the earth's heartbeat. It's a place we dance with angels daily. We laughed together, we shared terrifying stories of villages at night, and cried together. Daily, we had the rare opportunity to simply breathe together. In and out. Out and in. We swam under the treacherous sun, as beads of water flowed from our lake stained skin. We comforted campers at night, and each other as the summer days grew thin. We counted until we couldn't count any more.  Stars, weeks, memories, hours, and campers. Endlessly we counted campers, until we knew the number sixteen in all of its forms and clumps. 8 and 8. 4 and 4 and 4 and 4. 2 and 2 and 2 and 2 and 2 and 2 and 2 and 2. We bound them together as roommates. We bound them together as friends. We bound them any way we could to help us count. Daily we grew, we grew in Him, and grew in ourselves. The beat of camp rang through everything we did. It's warmth could be seen on our faces, and it's songs rang through our hearts and were lifted in voice. Our feet trod miles and miles upon the dirt we were simply lucky enough to call home for a mere summer. A mere summer that offered only a keyhole view of everlasting life.

Smells. Nothing compares to the smell of the lake filled air, perfectly combined with sunscreen applications, and the occasional wafting of lunch cooking in mid morning. The unavoidable presence of the everlasting campfire smoke. The smell of green will forever be imprinted in the front of my brain. I would know that smell anywhere, ferns, grass, mildew hair, pasta salad, the carpet of the RC, the earth ball, the village mattresses, the athletic field prota potty, army blankets, sour skittles, towels, the second pine branch up on the right of the panty tree. Green green green. We were floating, stuck in a completely, unbelievable, indescribable high.

Days were filled barely awake, lifting our stuck together eyelids to take in the new day, too tired to function but waiting for campers to sleep so we could stay up and talk. We wandered, we waded, we paddled, we yelled, we screamed, we swam. We strategically voiced our love for ice cream with great hopes of a free treat at canteen on hot days, and knew how to pick the perfect flannel on cold ones. We walked and talked and stargazed and laughed. Sunlight and laughter filled our days. Stars and pure joy filled the nights. On days we were lucky enough, we experienced just enough emotion to laugh, cry, and love.  Endless feeling days flew by as fast as a flying arrow. Gone. Gone. Gone.  Till one more left.

No one can prepare you for the day you must return to utter reality. It's gone. Summer is soaked up like a dry sponge. The nudging fall air blows away those around you. You're summer family is swallowed by an approaching season. I've seen it disappear in the blurr of a robin's egg blue v-neck in the front of a Chevy Malibu, in the back of a van pulled into the courtyard. It's been carried off in boxes and guitar cases. It disappeared in duffels and bins. Its holes are seen in empty crates and empty hooks. Rooms and refrigerators scream vacancy. It makes you question whether or not movement is a certainty. Are we all just pieced together as fragments of seconds? Are we really moving on, or just simple film strips pieced together, unable to be cut apart? We know for certain that it can't be a possibility for us to move on voluntarily. So are we really moving in time at all? Does life still exist beyond this?  It makes you question whether it was all a dream.    And as your tires cross the pavement, and hit the road just off the bridge, the tears falling are no longer summer tears. They are now possessions of the fall.  The emotions just aren't as deep in reality. You're alone. No one can prepare you for the utter feeling of emptiness. Never would I have guessed that the simple act of breathing alone, without the conjoined breathes of 30 others, can make you feel ultimately hollow. The unmistakable absence of fellow lungs supporting life sustaining breaths simply can't be felt until you experience their vacancy. Somehow, the state of their absence is heavier than their conjoined presence. It's the one thing in my life that I have ever experience as being heavier when nonexistent at all than the weight when they're all as one. Coincidentally, it's the heaviest thing I've had yet to bare.  And surprisingly, your heart continues to beat. And beyond all recollection of belief, your lungs can still fill themselves with a completely empty air. Alone.

Looking Up

Looking Up

Late night. Late summer.

Running quickly out of time.

Time to be together, simply breathing.

Standing, bending, sitting, laying. Together.

Looking up.

Small lights, millions of miles away.

Blinded by the tears.

He on my right, I on his left.

Hands closed together.

Him fitting the spaces I alone couldn't fill.

Letting me be was his greatest goodbye gift.

He didn't fill the empty spaces because he wanted to.

He knew I needed it, and was the one to graciously accept.

As we lay there with the world among us,

I said goodbye to that place.

The place where we danced with angels daily.

The place where my soul felt forever content.

Everything would be different soon.

And for a slice in time, nothing changed.

But he continued to rest his hand in mine,

so for a moment,

 I wouldn't have to be alone,

 to face the fact,

that nothing would ever be the same.

Hurt

somedays i feel so hurt,
completely crushed under the boulder called life,
i feel like there is no way out

sometimes i think it's better not to have friends,
then there would be no one to hurt you,
you would be alone,

but is alone sometimes better?

somedays i just don't want anyone,
i don't wanna wake up wondering who is going to hurt me next,
i would be alone, but i would be safe

i wouldn't have to cry,
i wouldn't have anyone to be hurt by,
sometimes that life seems so perfect to me

Trust

Sometimes I don't think people understand what trust means
To a person who has a hard time giving trust, it means a hell of a lot


Trust is like a window that you look through,
Perfectly clear, maybe a little scratch here and there,
Most friendships have those little issues you can look back on,
However those don't break you, they are just set as reminders 
Of how strong your friendship is,,,
Of how strong that window of friendship is


Life continues like this,
In a clear glass sight,
A nice glass to see the other person through,
A nice friendship.


Until one day you notice something on the other side,
That friend you thought was so close, holds a hammer,
They slowly lift it to the glass and tap,
This hammer is called a lie.


Glass shatters, 
Glass flies,
And now you can look at the ground 
And see your friendship 
At your feet...
gone


You take a step back,
You wonder "what have they done"
They took that clear, clear glass
And now there is none


And there the pieces sit,
On the ground all around your feet,
As reminders of the horrible things that person did to you,
And you wonder why they were ever your friend at all


Some day you may decide to pick those pieces up,
You may just start to put them back in place,
But do you know how long it takes to put back a giant broken window...
A long, long time. 


Years may pass, and finally you fit in that last piece,
After working so hard your window is never the same,
You can see the person on the other side,
But now through a different view


Now when you look at that person, 
All you see is what they did,
The aftermath of the lie they told,
And how you will never forget


You can never see that person the same,
After all they did to you,
There are now a million shattered pieces,
Of what once was your perfect glass,
Your perfect  trust


Their face is a little blurry,
Their words don't sound the same,
And never again will you allow that person,
To be let completely in.